


and hold you 'til you're quiet

by ScreechTheMighty



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Bodily Harm, Dissociation, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Temporary Character Death, The rest of the party is there but they're not in focus, Trauma, bed sharing, brief mention of vomiting, but nothing too graphic just low key descriptions of the aftermath, caleb backstory headcanons, catch me slipping easter eggs for my own fics in this one, fun times with revivify, google translate german, mollymauk whump, seriously please correct my german if you're a native speaker I won't be offended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 07:04:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14971670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreechTheMighty/pseuds/ScreechTheMighty
Summary: His skin was still warm, which meant he couldn’t have been gone long, and if he hadn’t been gone long then he still had a chance...Caleb has to look after Mollymauk this time.





	and hold you 'til you're quiet

**Author's Note:**

> **UPDATE:** Edits to the German made on 8/17/18 with help from YachiLove. Thanks for the corrections!
> 
> So I've written three different CalebMolly whump fics but NONE with Molly being my punching bag...this Will Not Stand. It's time to spread the pain around. (And the comfort, of course, I'm not a TOTAL monster.)
> 
> Just for reference, I'm treating the cart as having a cover over the back like in Oregon Trail because that's what I assumed it was up to like episode 19 or 20 and I'm too lazy to change how they could be hiding in the back if it's just an open-backed cart. Also, my characterization of Nott and her relationship to Caleb is inspired in a few places by [My Friend Filthy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14661570/chapters/33871443), which you should definitely read because it's some 10/10 Nott characterization.

Everything about the place made his skin crawl: its isolation, its grandiose but functional architecture, the feeling of dread that hung over the grounds. Even several yards away in the cart, Caleb could feel it. More than anything, he wanted to run, to just _get out_ while he still could. But he couldn’t, because Mollymauk Tealeaf was trapped inside.

At least, that’s what they thought. As far as the rest of the group could tell, the only other option was that he’d left then without warning. But that wasn’t what Molly did. Yasha left without warning (and had done so recently); Caleb, himself, sometimes disappeared without warning, but never for longer than an afternoon or so and he never went far. Molly wasn’t like that. He was committed to making the group a _group_ , more so than any of the others. He wouldn’t just _leave_ without saying anything.

So when he went out to the market one day alone and didn’t come back, they worried.

When their digging into where their friend might have gone unearthed whispers of magic users going missing, they were _very_ worried.

And now, there they were, at that house, making last-minute tweaks to their plans to infiltrate.

“Now, we’re clear on what everyone is doing?” Fjord asked.

“You and Beau are going to talk to him and distract them,” Jester said immediately, “and Nott and Caleb and I will go into the basement and see if we can find Molly. If we do, we’ll send you a message and get back to the cart.”

“Are you two sure you’ll be able to keep them distracted?” Caleb asked, his fingers picking anxiously at the cuffs of his coat sleeves. The idea was that they’d pose as interested arcane researchers, trying to learn exactly what this so-called scholar was doing in this house, but it would only work if he was willing to talk. And if the two of them didn’t act dodgy.

“We’ve got this.” Beau said. She wasn’t looking at him; her eyes were focused on the house, intense and sharp, as if she were planning on fighting the building itself. “It’ll be fine.”

_I’m glad you think so, because I’m not sure **I’ve** got this._

“Just stay safe. Don’t be afraid to bail if you have to. We’ll figure something out.” Fjord cleared his throat; when he spoke again, it was in an entirely different voice. “Ready?”

 _No._ “Ja, I suppose.”

“Ready,” Jester chirped.

Nott took a long swig from her flask. “Ready,” she said.

“Yeah, let’s do this shit,” Beau said.

Nott offered Caleb her flask. He took a long, long swig from it. He tried not to look at the house as he did. It wasn’t Trent Ikithon’s house. He told himself that again and again. This wasn’t Trent’s house. But it felt like it could be, to the point that Caleb swore he could smell burning flesh.

He took another swig from the flask. _Molly, if you’re here, we’re coming. I promise._

Fjord and Beau went first. Caleb and the girls waited until they were inside before making their movie. Before they left the cart, Jester reached over and patted Caleb on the head. “The Traveler is with you,” she whispered.

Caleb appreciated her concern, but the blessing didn’t help his nerves all that much. Jester’s blessings always made his teeth tingle, like he’d just put an entire spoonful of sugar into his mouth. Still, it worked; he was able to keep up with the both of them, and they reached the cellar door without incident.

“What should we do if there are people other than Molly in here?” Nott asked as she picked the lock.

“I don’t know. Let them out, I guess?” Jester kept one hand on her axe and her eyes constantly in motion. “Do you think there _will_ be more people?”

“Can we focus on getting inside, please?” Caleb hissed. He didn’t want to dwell on what-ifs. He just wanted to get their friend and go. “We’ll deal with other people if we find them, but…” He froze at a sound from inside the house. Whatever it was, it moved past them. “I don’t like this,” Caleb muttered.

“Don’t be such a scaredy cat, Caleb. We’re really good at this.”

 _Really good._ He wouldn’t go _that_ far. Still, despite his doubts and fears, Nott was able to open the door. A quick _detect magic_ spell located the same alarm spell that Caleb used every night; it took an equally quick use of _dispel magic_ to allow them safe passage (though Caleb tried not to think about the fact that it was a higher level spell he might need later). The door led to a staircase, which lead down to a dimly-lit basement. The smell of death and rot drifted up from the space. Caleb would’ve thought it was all in his head, but the others reacted to it as well. “That’s not good,” Nott whispered.

Caleb swallowed down his bile and summoned up Frumpkin. “I’ll scout ahead. Keep an eye out for any guards. Squeeze my hand twice if someone is coming.”

The first thing he noticed when his vision slipped into Frumpkin’s eyes was the sheer amount of cells. There had to be four rows, and it was difficult to tell how far back they stretched. He picked the row to the far right; as Frumpkin darted from cell to cell, he saw bodies in the cells, unmoving, mostly human or elf. Out of curiosity, he guided Frumpkin into one of the cells, up to the body. Whoever that person was, their eyes had long gone distant and glassy, their cheekbones pronounced as the body dehydrated.

“I don’t think we’re going to have to worry about finding more people,” Caleb whispered.

He could feel Nott clutching his hand; she was probably asking what that meant, but he couldn’t hear her. He could only hear what Frumpkin did, which was the faint sound of dripping water somewhere and…

 _Thump_.

A sick feeling wrapped around his heart. Caleb guided Frumpkin towards the sound; along the way, Frumpkin had to duck into a shadowy corner to avoid a figure walking by. Tall, armored, swearing quietly to himself, walking in the opposite direction from the door, thank the gods. The cat crept in the direction that the man had come from, and as he did, Caleb noticed a flash of purple in Frumpkin’s periphery.

Purple and a tail.

Caleb’s heart started pounding in his chest; it started _racing_ when he realized that the body in question was bleeding, twitching, _seizing_. All thoughts of stealth flew out of Caleb’s mind as he dropped the telepathy. “I found him…I found him, we have to…”

“Caleb, _wait!_ ”

Too late; he was already running towards the aisle, towards Frumpkin. There was no sign of the guard, or anyone else alive that he noticed, and no one tried to stop him. When he reached the cell, Caleb quickly confirmed two things. One: the person in the cell was _unmistakably_ Mollymauk. Even if there was another purple tiefling in the area, that ridiculous tattoo on his face was one of a kind.

Two: he wasn’t seizing anymore. In fact, he wasn’t moving at all.

“ _Shei_ _ße_ , **_Shei_** ** _ße_** _…Nott! Jester!_ ” Nott was at his side first, already pulling out her lock picks. “Hurry, please…Molly? _Mollymauk?_ ”

The cell smelled of blood and vomit. Caleb knew what had happened, because he’d seen it happen before. He knew firsthand what happened when you hit someone in the head too hard and in the wrong place. Molly had been left to seize and choke, and now he was…

“Molly?”

…not moving…

The cell door opened, and next thing Caleb knew he was at the tiefling’s side, kneeling on the dirt floor, pulling him up onto his lap. He was still; he wasn’t breathing. His lips were a darker shade of purple than before and there was no heartbeat when Caleb pressed a hand to his chest. But his skin was still warm. His skin was still warm and Caleb had _just_ seen him twitching, which meant he couldn’t have been gone long, and if he hadn’t been gone long then he still had a chance...

“ _Jester_ …!” He needn’t have called out; she was already moving to his side. “Jester, you need to cast revivify right now.”

“ _Is he dead?!_ ”

“Just use the spell, _bitte!_ ” He cradled Molly against his chest as Jester dug through her bag for the material components. “Molly? Molly, I’m so sorry we’re late, but we’re here now…” Molly’s skin was still warm and the blood in his hair hadn’t dried yet, so it couldn’t be too late. They weren’t too late, they couldn’t be too late. “…so it’s time to wake up, _ja_? Please, come back to us.”

Jester was praying as she performed the ritual; Nott was off to Caleb’s left, shaking Molly’s arm, saying something insistently. Caleb barely heard any of it. The only thing he could focus on was Molly’s still, silent face. It wasn’t like he was sleeping; it was too peaceful even for that. No, not peaceful. _Blank._

“ _Bitte,_ ” Caleb said softly, “ _bitte, mein Freund, wach auf_ …”

He heard the diamond shatter.

Molly opened his eyes and screamed.

It was a brief sound, gargled and muffled by the detritus still left in Molly’s throat. He rolled off Caleb’s lap, heaving and coughing it all back up. Caleb suddenly felt as though he, too, could breathe again—though also quite a bit like he was about to throw up. “ _Ohh,_ Molly!” Jester started rubbing Molly’s back. “It’s okay! I saved you!”

“Yes, you did,” Caleb breathed. He felt shaken, relieved, certainly, but _drained_ in that way that only blind panic could induce. “That was…good, that was very good work. We should…we should probably go. Molly, can you walk?”

Molly had stopped gagging. But he hadn’t moved from his new spot on the floor, either. He was trembling, shaking as if the room were freezing cold. “Molly?” Caleb said softly.

“I think something’s wrong,” Nott said. She moved closer to him carefully, leaning over to look at his face. “He kind of looks like how you did in prison.”

_Oh. Oh, that’s not good._

But it wasn’t something they could attend to, not yet. There was no way the guard hadn’t at least _partially_ heard some of the noise they’d made, and it was only a matter of time before he came to investigate. “Nott, send a message to Fjord. Jester, can you carry him?”

Jester scooped up Molly without hesitation, as easily as if she were lifting a child. “You’re going to have to do the fighting if something happens,” she pointed out.

“I’ll manage.” Well, he’d manage the fighting part. Caleb was more worried about holding himself _back_. Something ugly and cruel was starting to grow in the concern-worry-fear that had flooded his chest. He wanted to burn this place to the ground and piss on the ashes. He knew he _could_.

He’d done it before.

Caleb clenched his fist and breathed slowly, carefully. “Let’s go,” he said, snapping his fingers to send Frumpkin back to his dimension. _Just stay calm…think about Molly. Think about getting him out._

That soothed him somewhat. Kept the rage in check for a little while.

Then the guard from before made the mistake of walking into their path.

“Wh-“

Caleb felt his hands go white-hot.

But before he could do anything, even something he _wouldn’t_ regret later, Nott jumped out from behind his legs, dagger in hand. It wasn’t long before the guard was lying on the ground, head pressed into the dirt by Nott’s tiny body, blooding dripping from her blade as she dug it into the man’s throat over and over. When the guard stopped twitching and gurgling so much, Nott turned to the three of them and gave them a thumbs up.

Caleb returned the gesture, if a bit shakily. His hands cooled, the sudden temperature change making his skin tingle and sting.

It was better than the alternative, he supposed.

They ran out of the basement from there. Caleb was unsure if it was the Traveler’s blessing or his desperate need to get Molly out and away from that place, but it felt like he was flying as they ran. They reached the cart without any problems; now they just had to _wait_.

 _Fjord, Beauregard, hurry, please._ The plan had been working so far, but they’d had extraordinarily good luck as well. Caleb tried to push the thought aside and focus on tending to Molly’s injuries. “Here, save your spells, I have a potion…” They weren’t out of the woods yet, and if things went to shit, Caleb wanted Jester to have a full arsenal of spells ready. “Molly, here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

He couldn’t say Molly just stared at him blankly, because Molly wouldn’t look at him at all. His eyes weren’t blank, either—they were wide, focused, but not on anything Caleb could see. He did, at least, swallow when Caleb carefully (albeit a bit clumsily) opened his mouth and fed him the potion. Caleb had hoped it would perk Molly up, but the tiefling stayed quiet and unresponsive. “Is this normal for revivify?” he asked Jester.

“I don’t know! I’ve never used this spell before!” She pinched Molly’s cheek and tugged on it, receiving no response. “Have you ever heard of anything like this?”

“No, never.”

Nott shook Molly’s shoulder, moving from there to reach up to tug on his ear, a lock of hair, then to pinch the tip of his nose. All were gestures Caleb remembered from his time in prison, from those early days in the woods when Nott would have to jar him from his own thoughts. None of them had any effect on Molly. “Do you think he’s lost his memories again?” she asked.

It was a genuinely chilling thought—and, Caleb had to admit, not one he could dismiss outright. If Cree was to be trusted, this had happened before. Someone named Lucien had died, been buried in the dirt, and Mollymauk Tealeaf had clawed his way out several days later. Molly’s entire existence was marked by oddities that Caleb had no way of explaining; maybe a cycle of death and rebirth was one of them.

Caleb was jarred from his speculation by the sound of approaching voices. “…and we’re really grateful for your help,” said a voice Caleb recognized as the false one Fjord had been using. “It’s been informative.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” said a new voice. Though Caleb didn’t recognize, a sudden, sharp inhale from Molly said that _he_ did. Caleb knew the sound of panic well, and how it looked on someone’s face. Molly had developed the look of someone teetering on the edge of a breakdown: his breath was starting to pick up, and a quiet, animalistic whine was crawling out of his throat, threatening to turn louder if he was pushed.

“Molly, Molly, Molly.” Caleb covered Molly’s mouth with one hand and cradled the back of his head with another. “It’s okay. We’re getting out of here. You just have to be quiet.” He pressed their foreheads together, hoping the touch would keep Molly calm. “We’re almost out.”

Molly’s eyes fixed on Caleb’s. There may have been recognition there. There was definitely desperation, and the terrified need for something to hold onto.

Caleb knew that feeling.

The back of the cart suddenly felt more crowded. Jester had moved closer to half-embrace Molly, draping herself over his back as if she were shielding him from the man outside. Nott squeezed in to hold Molly’s hand—only the left one, as his right hand was clinging to Caleb’s sleeve.

 _Get me out,_ his eyes screamed.

 _Almost,_ Caleb hoped his said back. _Almost. Just hold on._

The cart creaked as Fjord and Beau got on; it started moving not long after. Caleb waited until they were a good distance away before removing his hand from Molly’s mouth. “There you go,” he said. “See? We’re…” Molly shifted his weight forward until his face was pressed into Caleb’s shoulder. “…all right. We’re all right.” He tried to run his fingers through Molly’s hair, but it was still matted with blood. They’d have to clean that out later, along with the rest of his wounds. And find him something to wear that wasn’t blood stained. And his coat… _fuck_ , what had they done with that coat? Molly loved that stupid thing. He was going to be heartbroken.

“Hey, we’re clear,” Beau said, leaning into the back of the cart. “He okay?”

“Nott thinks he may have forgotten everything again,” Jester blurted. “He was _totally_ dead when we found him, guys, but I used revivify and now he’s alive but he’s all…” She gestured at him. “…and we don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t speculate on this until we’ve gotten him cleaned up and let him rest,” Caleb said. It came out a bit harsher than he meant it to, but the thought that Molly might not remember then anymore felt like a millstone forced down his throat and into his stomach. “Let’s give him some time before we panic, _ja?_ ”

Easier said than done. Caleb was sure he was already starting to panic.

 _What were they doing to him?_ Caleb was torn between wanting to know to keep the other, probably worse versions of events out of his mind, and not wanting to know. If he knew, that might be one less thing stopping him from going back there and exacting revenge on Molly’s behalf. Caleb closed his eyes and breathed past the stones in his chest and focused on Molly’s trembling. It wouldn’t do to remind him of what he’d been through. Not when he was still so fragile.

Preferably not ever.

Caleb needed something else to think about, so he made a metal list of what they’d have to do once they got back. One, clean Molly’s wounds. Two, bandage them. Three, wash his hair. Four, get him another healing potion. Or maybe a stiff drink. Maybe both. Probably both. He’d like both. Something ostentatious and expensive, maybe. And, hopefully, once he was clean and safe and had a little something to dull the pain, he’d come back to them.

Hopefully.

Jester carried Molly into the inn when they arrive. Molly resist, though he did refuse to let go of Caleb’s sleeve. The innkeeper looked concerned and confused when they walked in, but any questions she might’ve had died when Fjord put an extra gold piece on the table. “We won’t make a mess,” he said. “Just…if anyone asks, we’re not in right now, all right?”

The woman took the piece and nodded. Hopefully, that would be enough to buy them privacy.

They started with Molly’s wounds. It became apparent quickly what had been done to him. There were some bruises, scrapes on his knuckles, a black eye, and the cut on the back of his head from whatever had hit him, but all of that was clearly from attempts at escaping or fighting back, It was the cuts that clued Caleb in—neat, small slices on his wrists, the heels of his feet, various other parts of his body that _seemed_ random at first. A moment of scanning Molly’s memories helped him remember they were anything _but_. He’d seen those locations before, indicated on pictures of human bodies in a book his mother kept in her room.

“Bloodletting,” he muttered. When the others looked at him in confusion, he clarified: “It’s a way of drawing blood for medicinal purposes. Usually, you cut in different places on the body to access different kinds of blood. If they thought his abilities were entirely in his blood, they may have been trying to figure out where.”

“…that sounds like bullshit science, but yeah, sure, I bet that really worked out for them,” Beau said sarcastically. She finished tying off the bandage on Molly’s foot and snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Hey, dickhead, can you hear me?”

Caleb would’ve bristled at her words if she hadn’t said _dickhead_ so affectionately (or what counted as affectionately for her). Even if she _hadn’t_ been affectionate, Molly’s lack of response distracted him from being offended on Molly’s behalf. Beau’s words didn’t have any effect at all. _Nothing_ they’d done had any effect, from saying Molly’s name to Caleb summoning back Frumpkin to sit in Molly’s lap. “Mollymauk,” Caleb tried again. He thought he saw Molly’s eyes dart to him, but it was hard to tell from his angle. “Do you want us to wash your hair?” That was a simple, yes-or-no question; it would probably be best to stick with those for now. “Would that be all right?”

Molly didn’t say anything, or even try to nod or shake his head. Caleb moved off the bed until he was kneeling in front of him, taking both of Molly’s hands in his. “You can blink once for yes and twice for no,” he said.

Molly definitely made eye contact—Caleb was sure of it. He blinked once, slowly, then looked away again. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to take some of the stones of worry off Caleb’s shoulder. “All right. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The task of collecting the necessary supplies to clean Molly with fell to Caleb and Beau—Fjord had to speak with someone at the stable about their horses, Nott had to go on an undisclosed errand, and Caleb desperately needed a few moments away from Molly to gather himself and consider what to do next. He couldn’t think when he was around him; all he could do was focus on how lost he looked, how hollowed-out and so unlike himself. It was terrifying to see, but Caleb didn’t have time to be afraid for Molly. He had to focus on helping him get better. Jester was, fortunately, comfortable being alone with her fellow tiefling, and Molly had been calm when Caleb left the room. He left Frumpkin with them, just to feel better about leaving. It helped a little.

“What do you think we should do about this?” Beau asked as she worked the pump on the well outside.

Caleb watched the water rush and church as it filled the bucket they’d borrowed. “He’s probably going to need rest,” he said. “We might have to stay in town a bit longer, or find somewhere close by if we _have_ to move. If we give him time, let him recover at his own pace…”

“That’s not what I was talking about.”

_Ah._

Caleb breathed in slowly through his mouth, then out through his nose. “I don’t think that’s a decision I should be involved in.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because, Beauregard, what I _want_ to do is go back there and kill everyone in that house,” he said. His voice stayed steady. He kept his eyes on the water. “But we both know why I can’t do that, so I would prefer to focus on helping Mollymauk.”

He could feel Beau’s eyes on him as the water slowed, then stopped entirely. Caleb tried to lift the bucket and walk away, but it was too heavy, and the thin metal handle bit into his fingers. Beau calmly took the bucket away from him, lifting it as though it were nothing. “That’s fair. You focus on Molly, the rest of us will…we’ll work it out. And hey, for what it’s worth?” Her eyes looked like storm clouds when Caleb glanced her way. “I kind of want them dead, too.”

Caleb wouldn’t say that made him feel _better_ —just less alone in his anger. But even that, he supposed, was a kind of better.

Molly was still unresponsive when they arrived back in the room, and remained so as Jester washed the blood out of his hair. She kept up a constant stream of conversation as she did, talking about her mother’s various patrons, stories about the Traveler, something about tiny unicorns and dust fairies. Molly didn’t respond to any of it, but he did, periodically, squeeze Caleb’s hand. Caleb paid more attention to that than Jester’s stories; he counted the squeezes and the seconds in between, trying to find a pattern.

_Eins. Zwei. Drei. Vier._

Molly squeezed Caleb’s had eighteen times, and if there was a pattern to it, Caleb couldn’t find it.

“…don’t know what he was so angry about. The Traveler thought it was _very_ funny,” Jester said. She had, somehow, washed, dried, combed and braided Molly’s hair in the time Caleb had been counting. “There! Now you’re all nice and clean!” She kissed the top of Molly’s head. Caleb thought he saw Molly blink just a bit faster, as if trying to clean sleep from his eyes, but if it was a real reaction and not just Caleb’s wistful thinking, it wasn’t enough to draw him from his stupor.

“He looks much better. Thank you, Jester.” Caleb stood up, his knees aching from kneeling on the floor next to Molly for so long. “Maybe if we get him something to eat, that will…”

Molly wouldn’t let go of his hand.

“…do you want me to get you something to eat?” Molly didn’t reply, not even in blinks. “Are you hungry?” No reply. “Molly, can you hear me?”

One blink.

Al right, so they’d established that much. He must not have been asking the right question. “Do you know if you’re hungry?” That earned him two blinks. Caleb’s heart raced at the sight. “Would you like to try?” There was a pause, then one blink. “Okay. Then I’ll go get…”

Molly’s grip on Caleb’s hand tightened. He didn’t have to blink twice.

“…Jester, do you think you could…?”

“Absolutely!” She jumped to her feet, grabbing the bucket and the cloth she’d used on Molly’s hair as she made her way to the door. “Do you want dinner, too?”

“Just a little something, thank you.” Caleb had a feeling he’d be eating whatever Molly didn’t. “And let Fjord know I think Molly will be staying with Nott and I tonight.” If he wasn’t going to let go of Caleb’s hand, it would probably be or the best.

Nott came back not long after Jester left, double-checking the hallway one more time before she stepped into the room. “What did you take?” Caleb sighed wearily.

“Just little things. They had so much, they won’t notice these are gone.” Nott sat down on Molly’s lap and started pulling things out of her pocket: a length of twine, a handful of shiny beads, and one small silver pendant that probably wasn’t worth all that much. She strung them all on the twine and then, to Caleb’s surprise, tied the strand to one of Molly’s horns, threading it through the hole drilled in the right horn. “They took most of his trinkets,” she explained. “I thought he’d miss them when he woke up.”

 _Oh_. Caleb hadn’t noticed. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Nott. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

Nothing about Molly’s face changed, and at first Caleb thought that he hadn’t noticed the new trinkets at all. But, after a moment, his head slowly tilted to one side, then back again. The beads and pendant clinked together as they bounced off his horns. He let his head sway like that, back and forth, glinting and clinking, still squeezing Caleb’s hand every now and again until Jester came back with the food.

Molly had to be fed, as Caleb thought he might; all attempts at making him hold a spoon had ended in failure. Nott helped, spooning soup into Molly’s mouth and tipping wine past his lips until he refused to take more. She was good at that, strangely maternal for being as young as she was. She tried tugging on his ear again when Molly was done, but all the tiefling did was slump against Caleb and squeeze his hand.

 _Sechsundzwanzig,_ Caleb counted.

If the others discussed what to do about the man in the house, Caleb didn’t hear it. He stayed with Molly on the floor, letting the tiefling lean against him, sometimes squeezing Molly’s hand in response to his squeezes. He counted fifty-seven before Molly fell asleep.

Caleb was afraid to move away, but he couldn’t lift Molly onto the bed. He had to send Nott to enlist Fjord’s help. “He ate a little,” Caleb reported. “And he’s responding to some things. I’m not sure what’s wrong…” He tucked a few strands of hair back into Molly’s braid. “…but small improvement is still improvement, I suppose.”

“Definitely is. How’re _you_ doing? You seemed awful shaken up while we were getting out of there.”

Had he really hid it so poorly? “I don’t like seeing him like this,” Caleb said. “And I don’t like finding my friends dead in prison cells after being cut up by…” Caleb breathed slowly again. “Fjord, what were they doing in there?”

“Arcane research. But a weird, creepy kind of arcane research. It all looked a bit strange and I got the feeling there were things he wasn’t telling us. I think you would’ve been able to figure it out better than me or Beau. We were actually thinking about going back, seeing what else we could find. If that guy’s dangerous, we might want to do something about it.”

Caleb’s stomach twisted at the thought of going back, at the fear of what it might turn him into. In that moment, Molly’s grip on his hand was just as much a lifeline for Caleb as it was for the still-sleeping tiefling. “I think it’d be best if I stay with Mollymauk,” Caleb said. “He doesn’t seem to want to let me go.”

Fjord chuckled. “I can see that. You’re doing good with him. Thank you for that.”

Caleb looked at Molly. The tiefling was breathing steadily, peacefully. He squeezed Caleb’s hand— _achtundf_ _ünfzig_. “I just hope it will be enough,” Caleb said softly.

The night was the first true test of how much Caleb was helping.

Their first problem was more mundane—the matter of sleeping arrangements. There were two beds in the room; Caleb would’ve shared with Nott and let Molly have a bed to himself if Molly would let go of his hand. Every time Caleb tried to extract it, Molly would tighten his grip and frown in his sleep. That meant they would be sharing, but Caleb didn’t know how that worked. He knew how it worked with Nott, they had been together so long that sleeping close was second nature to him. But he didn’t know how it looked with Molly—especially not when Molly was in this state.

But, he would figure it out. For Molly.

Caleb kicked off his boots and lay down facing Molly, mentally commanding Frumpkin to curl up at their heads. Almost immediately, Molly huddled up against Caleb, pressing his face into Caleb’s chest. “…okay,” Caleb muttered. “I guess this is how we’ll do this.”

It wasn’t _uncomfortable_ , per say. Just awkward. Caleb tried to think about what he would want in this situation—what he _had_ wanted in the asylum, in the days before he met Nott. The things he still wanted now, but wasn’t sure how to ask for.

Caleb inhaled carefully and wrapped an arm around Molly, pulling the tiefling closer. He shifted their weight so Caleb was lying more on to of him than side-by-side, enough that his body was weighing Molly’s down but not so much that Molly couldn’t breathe. He hummed quietly as they lay there, the same song he still hummed to himself sometimes, or to Frumpkin, or to Nott.

 _H_ _ӓnschen klein, ging allein, in die weite Welt hinein…_

Molly sighed softly, sounding almost content for a moment, and rubbed his cheek against Caleb’s coat collar.

… _Stock und Hut, steht ihm gut, ist gar wohlgemut…_

Molly’s skin was warm, his breathing was regular, and if he smelled of blood, it was no more so than usual. It was a relief, and enough to make Caleb feel much calmer himself. He drifted off to sleep halfway through his song.

He woke up suddenly when Molly started screaming.

Caleb nearly fell out of bed in shock. If he pushed Molly away, it was to avoid being struck. He’d hit Nott while in the process of waking up from a nightmare, never forgiven himself for it, and he was expecting Molly to do the same. But Molly wasn’t swinging; he was curling in on himself, shrinking away as if _he_ were the one being attacked. Caleb summoned dancing lights on instinct, trying to see what was wrong. Molly’s screams stopped the second the lights flickered into being. “Hey, hey, hey,” Caleb said. Molly’s eyes were wide and frantic; they fixed on Caleb’s face as if it were the only thing he could trust to be real. “It’s all right. Everything is fine, see?” Caleb maneuvered the lights with a twist of his wrist, spreading them out so they illuminated the whole room. “We’re all right.”

Molly’s eyes darted around the room, taking in the two beds, the one chest, the window fogged by the rain and mist outside. After a few tense seconds, he slumped back against Caleb. He clutched at Caleb’s coat, as though he were afraid he’d drift away if he let go. Caleb faintly heard Nott scurrying around, checking for any threats, before joining them in bed. “Must’ve been a nightmare,” she said. She’d seen so many of Caleb’s that they barely phased her anymore. “Should I get a lantern?”

“ _Ja, ja,_ and…some extra blankets, I think.” Molly was shaking all over, as if he were freezing; putting that aside, Caleb’s first instinct was _more weight._ Anything to push Molly back down in his body and keep him there with them.

Nott delivered, returning a few minutes later with two lanterns and then again with an extra, heavy blanket. Soon, the room was mostly lit, Molly was bundled under every blanket from both beds, and sandwiched between Nott and Caleb. “Has he always had these white bits in his hair?” Nott asked.

Caleb hadn’t noticed until Nott pointed it out, but there _was_ a streak of white hair growing out from behind Molly’s ear. Usually Caleb would’ve chalked it up to him being unobservant, but he’d taken to looking at Molly’s peacock when he couldn’t look Molly in the eye. The streak ran right past the tattoo; he definitely would’ve noticed it by now. “I don’t think so. Maybe it’s a side effect or revivify. Or…” His fingers strayed to the scars on the exposed part of Molly’s wrist. “Whatever it is he does.”

As he’d thought before—inexplicable oddities. He wondered what Molly would think of his new hair, if he ever came back to them. Caleb tried not to consider that Molly might _not_ come back to them, but the thought kept surfacing again. Caleb closed his eyes and counted the rhythm of Molly’s heartbeat.

_One-and-two-and-one-and-two-and-one-_

When he opened his eyes again, it was to the sight of sunlight, the smell of food, and other voices in the room. Caleb tried to sit up, but Molly had him pinned to the bed. The tiefling was still asleep, his eyes twitching as he dreamed.

It was good to see him so peaceful. And yet.

“Can someone please get him off me?” Caleb called out weakly. “I need to take a piss.”

It took Jester _and_ Beau to help extract Caleb from Molly’s grip; he ran down to the outhouse and back again just as quickly. He only stopped long enough to relieve himself, then once at the door to check the crowds outside for any sign of Yasha. She had known Molly longer than any of them, and she might know how to bring him back. But there was no sign of her distinctive frame anywhere.

_Guess this is my job, then._

Molly was upright-ish when Caleb re-entered the room. Someone had draped a blanket over his shoulders; Frumpkin was perched on the headboard, licking Molly’s hair, but that did nothing to help the dull look still clouding his eyes. “Oh, good, you’re back,” Fjord said. “I know last night you said you might want to stay and look after Molly. That changed at all?”

“No,” Caleb said almost immediately. He hoped that didn’t look too suspicious. “He’s ah, been responding to me, so I think…” Molly’s head lifted slightly as Caleb approached, and he leaned against him once Caleb sat back down. “...I shouldn’t leave him alone.”

“I agree. That does leave us down three, but if we just grab what we’re looking for and go…”

Caleb held out his hand to Molly. He took it carefully, flipping it over and staring at the lines in Caleb’s palms as if looking for a message there. Maybe he could see Caleb’s future. Who could say?

The others discussed, planned, and brought food up for Caleb and Molly. Molly didn’t eat all of it, but he ate a little more than he had the day before. He also moved away enough to let Caleb stand and set up an alarm in their room. “Will you need anything while we’re gone?” Nott asked.

“Ah…” Caleb hummed faintly, scratching at his jaw as he thought. “Do you think you could ask Jester if I could borrow that book of hers?”

Nott’s nose wrinkled. “You…actually want to read _Tusk Love?_ ”

“No, not personally, but I think reading to Molly might help and I don’t think he’ll enjoy my books.” It was a lot about history and magical theory. Molly had once taken one of Caleb’s books, read half a paragraph, and given it back, saying that Caleb must’ve had an iron will to suffer through _that_. “It’s either that or I make something up, and I’m not so good with stories.”

“All right, I’ll ask.”

Jester was more than willing to part with the novel, and two of her least stale pastries besides. The others left not long after, promising that they would be back before nightfall at the latest.

The weight of Molly’s silence felt a lot heavier when Caleb was left alone with it.

“All right. Let’s…” Caleb made himself comfortable, sitting in between Molly and the door, propped up by the thin pillows and the bed’s headrest. Molly’s fingers curled around the edge of Caleb’s coat. “…see what all the fuss is about.”

It didn’t take Caleb long to see that this was _not_ his sort of story. The prose was more elaborate than Molly’s coat, and the pages dripped with sentimentality. And all of this was _before_ the smut started.

“In the woods like that, _really?!_ ” Caleb muttered. He was only a paragraph into the scene, and there was already a great deal more engorging and heaving than he was really comfortable with. It felt like it had only been a few pages since the _last_ one, which Caleb had skipped large portions of due to lack of interest and increasing confusion as to how any of this was physically possible. “ _Meine G_ _ӧtter_ , there’s a perfectly good bed inside…” His eyes darted over the next few paragraph, his ears going pink as he got the general gist of what was going on. “All right, that’s enough of _that._ ” Caleb shut the book and set it aside. “I tried to read smut for you, Mollymauk Tealeaf. I hope you appreciate that.”

He was sure he was flushed and flustered, positive that Molly would’ve teased him relentlessly for it if he were himself. But if Molly noticed now, he didn’t react. He played with Caleb’s sleeve, idly tugging on a loose thread over and over, and said nothing.

 _What am I doing wrong? What could I be doing differently?_ Caleb had his fair share of experience with trauma, with shutting down; he’d spent eleven years drowning in the haze of his own madness and grief, after all. He’d been able to pull himself out a bit, but he barely remembered how. He certainly didn’t remember enough to help Molly.

“Mollymauk, _bitte, komm zur_ _ück_.” Caleb rested a hand on Molly’s forehead. It was warm, but no more so than usual. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I can’t help you if…” He paused, then laughed harshly. “I’m not sure I can help you at all. I’m not so good at helping people.”

The room stayed silent, but Molly did, at least, respond to the touch, leaning into Caleb’s hand and sighing softly. Touch seemed to be the thing that woke him up more than anything else. Maybe it was knowing that someone else was there—or knowing that _he_ was there, that he _had_ a body that could be touched.

Caleb slid down until they were lying side by side again, taking Molly’s face in his hands and making him meet his eyes. “Herr Tealeaf,” he said, stern but not really stern. “I’m willing to make a deal. I’ll tell you something about myself that I’ve never told anyone else. If I do that, though, you have to say something. Anything. _Ja?_ ” He pressed their foreheads together. “Hmm?”

Molly looked at Caleb’s nose, then his eyes. One hand loosely curled around Caleb’s wrist, staying there even as his eyes wandered away again. His lips moved. No sound came out, but it was a start. Maybe even a sign that this would work.

He hadn’t been sure what story he was going to tell Molly in exchange for his voice. Not until a story sprung into his mind—an old memory.

“My mother…” Caleb stopped after those two words to steady himself. “…was a doctor. Well, she was a _Hebamme_ , a midwife, but she knew a lot about medicine and the real doctor was in the next town over, so…” Caleb closed his eyes, fighting back tears at the memory of licorice root, rosemary, nettle tea brewing in the kitchen. “At any rate, she mostly helped with childbirth. And usually I wasn’t involved, but one day her usual helper was seeing family and she was in a hurry, so…so I went with her.”

So many of his childhood memories were fractured, misty with distance and deliberate avoidance. But this one came back to him the more he talked, all the details so clear that it could’ve happened last week. “I’d never seen a woman in labor before. I thought she was dying. I mean, there’s always that risk in childbirth, but it sounded so…visceral.” He finally opened his eye. He could still smell rosemary when he did. “There was a lot of screaming…a lot of swearing, that surprised me. And then the baby was there and I had to hold him while Mother tended to the woman. I don’t know if you’ve ever held a baby, but…they’re so small. So fragile. Especially when they’re new like that. And he wouldn’t stop crying. I rocked him and sang to him but...nothing helped.”

_Just like now. Just like with you._

“I was starting to learn magic at the time, so I decided I’d try prestidigitation. I made some stars for him to look at. It was my best use of the spell, and it got him to stop crying. He loved them. That was the last time in my life I think I really helped someone.” He could smell rosemary and see those stars. He tried to shake the memories off, but they clung to him like fleas. “They both lived. The boy would be…twenty now, I think, maybe a little older.” Caleb closed his eyes again, tried to think of that boy instead of mother and her lovely golden red hair and the smell of rosemary when you lit on fire. “So. Now you know. I did as I said, now you have to say something.”

His voice cracked like wood splitting in an inferno.

“Please.”

The pain was so deep it overwhelmed most of his senses—that was, until the hand on his wrist moved to his face, gently wiping the teas away. When Caleb opened his eyes, Molly was staring at him. He looked confused and concerned, the two emotions swirling together in an uncertain mix. Molly’s thumb lingered on Caleb’s cheekbone. His fingers trembled.

“Caleb,” he said, so softly that it was almost inaudible. “Caleb.”

If sorrow hadn’t split his heart in two already, the blinding joy he felt at the sound of his name finished the job.

“ _Ja, ja, das bin ich. Caleb._ ” He caught himself and forced his lips to use common. “Do you know who you are? Can you tell me?”

That confused-concerned look deepened. Molly’s lips moved soundlessly again, forming several shapes, half-starting sounds. “Mmm-“ The m-sound seemed to give him pause. “Mmm…Mm-Molly.” Then, again, “I’m Molly.” And a third time, hesitantly, almost fearfully. “I’m…I’m Mollymauk.”

It hurt, it _hurt_ to hear the usually so vivacious tiefling sound so small and doubtful, to watch him grasp for an identity he’d spent two years cultivating. Caleb thought he felt ash coat his throat as he once again thought about burning that cursed house down, but he cleared his throat, cleared the ashes from his mind, and focused on that streak of white hair, on Molly’s deep red eyes, on replacing the doubt in them with certainty. “You’re Molly,” Caleb confirmed. “Mollymauk Tealeaf. You’re my friend. Do you remember that?”

“Caleb,” Molly muttered dimly. He lifted his head enough to look around the room. “I’m…alive?”

“Of course you are. Jester saved you.” Molly lay back down again; his eyes scanned Caleb’s face as if trying to spot a lie in it. “You’re alive. We’re both alive.”

“Alive.” Molly sounded doubtful, fearful. His hand pulled away from Caleb’s face to touch his own, feeling the high cheekbones, his lips, up to his hair. “I’m…alive…”

Caleb thought about the stars. He summoned the arcane power up his arm into his hand, his lips forming the incantation for prestidigitation. This time, though, he focused on his own fingertips, cooling them to the point of stinging before resting them against Molly’s neck.

The result was immediate and, to be honest, comical. Molly yelped and backed away. At first he looked confused, then betrayed, then impressed. He only looked impressed for a second, but he looked more like himself in that moment than he had since Caleb had found him in that cell.

“See?” Caleb said, his voice shaking with hope, joy, sorrow. “You’re alive.”

Molly rubbed at the skin Caleb had touched. “…what’s…what’s the Zemnian word for _asshole?_ ” he asked.

Caleb couldn’t help smiling. “ _Arschloch_.”

“ _Arschloch_.” Molly’s pronunciation was clumsy, but not too bad for someone who didn’t pay attention whenever Caleb tried to teach the party Zemnian. It was much better when he said it a second time, this time in a tone that was both reprimanding and impressed, and accompanied by a solid shove to Caleb’s shoulder. “ ** _Arschloch._** ”

He smiled, genuine and bright, and for a moment the world had set itself back where it belonged.

Then his smile fractured.

“Caleb.”

Then it broke.

Molly buried his face into Caleb’s chest, his body shaking with sobs. All the words he hadn’t been able to say for the past day came tumbling out—how he’d been dead, he’d been _dead_ and it had been so dark, so empty, so very empty and cold. Caleb remembered what Molly had said about his life when he’d first come back. The only word he’d been able to say was _empty._

Maybe that’s what he’d been talking about.

“It was…I couldn’t find my way out, it was so dark…” Caleb wrapped his arms around Molly and tried to focus on comfort, on weight. He needed to keep Molly inside his body; otherwise he’d risk sinking back into that place. “B-but…I heard you.”

Caleb froze. “You…you heard me?”

“Yes, I know, I know I did. It was your voice, but it… _wasn’t_ you. There was a man in a green cloak, and I couldn’t see his face but he talked like you. He held out his hand…he held out his hand and I took it.  And it wasn’t dark anymore after that, but I wasn’t sure…it all felt…” He took a deep, shuddering breath and lifted his head off Caleb’s chest. “Was…everyone in the cart?”

“Yes.”

“Did you wash my hair?”

“Jester did. You didn’t want to let go of me.”

“And…Nott…” Molly reached up to touch the trinkets dangling from his horns. “She gave me these?”

“ _Ja_ , but I wouldn’t wear them in public. They’re...not exactly ours.”

“That tracks.” After a contemplative pause, Caleb added, “You were…reading me _Tusk Love_?”

Caleb grimaced. That was all the answer Molly needed. The tiefling burst into giggles, a little bit hysterical, perhaps, but relieved all the same. “ _Oh_ , I wish I could remember that more clearly…sorry. I’m sorry, I’m being a shithead.”

“You are, but I prefer that to you being comatose.” Anxiety crept back into his gut, a new anxiety (as if he needed more). “What…what else do you remember?”

Molly’s smile faded. There was, for a moment, that sharp perception in his eyes, that look that always frightened Caleb with how deeply it could cut. “…I remember how to keep a secret,” he said finally. “Thank you for telling me about her.”

There was a part of Caleb that wished Molly hadn’t remembered any of it. But he would take Molly keeping it a secret. It seemed an even trade. “Thank you,” Caleb said. “I just don’t like to talk about…”

The heat of fire flashed across Caleb’s neck. He closed his eyes until it passed. “I don’t like to talk about her.”

When he opened his eyes, Molly was looking at him with such raw, unfiltered compassion that it made Caleb’s chest ache. It was an ache of gratitude, of sorrow, of guilt. “Ah, look at me, acting like this when you’re the one who died,” Caleb said, trying to deflect away from the tears in his eyes. “I should be looking after you better. Are you hungry?”

“I don’t…” Molly grimaced. “…I don’t really know. My body still doesn’t feel like it’s working right. I can’t figure out all the signals.”

“Well, maybe we can start with a drink and see how you feel from there. Do you want something strong or something warm?”

“Do you think they have something that’s both?”

“I can certainly find out.”

Caleb was hesitant to leave Molly alone, but he seemed much calmer now. He even sat up on his own when Caleb stood to leave. When Caleb returned with two cups of some heated, spiced wine, Molly was still sitting upright, petting Frumpkin, eyes focused and clear.

 He wasn’t one for praying, but… _den Göttern sei Dank_. The Traveler. The Moon Weaver. Whichever ones were listening.

“Strong _and_ warm,” Caleb said as he held out the cup. “The others will be glad to see you up.”

“Oh, was I missed?” Molly grinned that awful, cheeky smile of his as he took the cup. “And where are they, anyway?”

“They, ah, went back to the house we found you in. They were hoping to have a look around, see if there’s anything we can do about…” Molly’s face grew visibly guarded, visibly _blank_ as Caleb mentioned the place. “…Molly, if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. I understand. I just need to know one thing. Was…was the man who hurt you connected to the Empire?”

Molly didn’t answer immediately. For a moment, Caleb thought that he might’ve made things worse, might’ve pushed the tiefling back into the dark, but Molly took a sip of the wine and sighed. “No, not that I noticed. He never said anything to indicate he was, and the guards looked like hired muscle. Not crownsguard. If he is working with the Empire, he’s independent enough that they might not notice he’s gone.”

“Ah. _Sehr gut._ ” Caleb hoped he didn’t look too relieved. That sharp look didn’t come back to Molly’s face, so he figured he was in the clear. For now, at least. “That’s one less thing to worry about with this mess.” He stalled by sampling his own wine. It was good—a bit sweet, but comforting. “Nott killed the one who hit you in the head, for whatever that’s worth.”

“Hmm. I owe her for that.” Molly leaned against Caleb and sighed. “And I owe you, too. Thank you.”

Caleb remembered fire, a sharp smack on his face, red eyes staring into him with that same raw compassion. “You did the same for me,” Caleb said. “It’s the least I can do. But…please try not to get kidnapped again?”

“I’ll do my best.” Molly’s hair tickled Caleb’s cheek. “Though, I must say, you’re not a bad bedwarmer. Maybe I _should_ get kidnapped more often.”

Caleb’s ears went pink again. He was sure that was the result Molly had been hoping for. “Keep that up and I’ll freeze my fingers again,” he threatened. It was entirely without bite; Caleb was still too relieved to engage in any serious verbal sparring. “I mean it. Prestidigitation is a cantrip. I could never have warm hands again.”

Molly laughed; the sound was drowned out by voices outside and the creak of the door opening. “ _Molly!_ ” Jester squealed. She practically flung herself onto the bed to hug Molly. “Oh, good, you’re awake!”

“That I am, thanks to you, from what I hear.” Molly returned the hug as best he could with one hand still holding his cup. “Thank you, darling. I’m glad to be back.”

Caleb saw something flying at him from the corner of his eye a second before it partially impacted him and fully impacted Molly. That fabric was unmistakable. They’d somehow found that damn coat. “We’re glad to have you back,” Beau said.

Molly looked shocked, though it was a partially forced surprise. “…did you just say something _nice_ to me? Caleb, you heard that, right?”

“Oh, c’mon, dude, I’m really trying here…”

The room was quickly filled with chatter as everyone crowded around Molly, expressing their happiness at seeing him all right, asking him questions about what he remembered, if he still felt injured, if he needed anything. Molly stayed leaned against Caleb; at one point his free hand found Caleb’s again and squeezed it, as though making sure this was still real.

Caleb squeezed back.

There was a bit of worry in the others’ eyes, a bit of danger, and it was impossible to miss the bundle of papers and books that Fjord had carried in. Caleb had a feeling he’d be digging into those later. He just hoped whatever was in them didn’t re-awaken the flames of his anger.

But he didn’t want to focus on that now, and neither did the others it seemed. Molly was back. He was alive, and with them. They had their friend back.

That was all that mattered now.

Molly seemed much better as the day went on, ate an entire meal on his own, and stopped sticking to Caleb like a second shadow. Still, Caleb set the alarm that night to allow Molly in without raising a fuss. It was a hunch that ended up being right; he was half-asleep with a book on his chest when the door creaked open.

“Caleb?” Molly whispered.

Caleb brightened the dancing lights in the room; Molly visibly relaxed when he did. “Sorry, it was just…dark in the other room, and I didn’t want to bother Fjord.”

“No, it’s fine. I wasn’t really sleeping. Do you want to stay?”

“Please?” Caleb moved over; Molly lay down immediately, this time keeping his hands to himself but wrapping the coat tightly around himself. “ _Danke sch_ _ӧn_. Am I saying that right?”

“Not really, but close enough.” Caleb smirked down at the tiefling, an action that earned him a stuck-out tongue. _Very mature of you_. “Do you want me to read to you again? It’s a history of transmutation research along the Menagerie Coast. I’m sure it will put you right to sleep.”

“Pass. Just…keep the lights on for a bit if you can?” Caleb nodded in assent. “Thank you. And…” Molly reached over to run his fingers along the exposed lining of Caleb’s coat. “You were wrong earlier.”

“…about what?”

“When you said that baby was the last person you helped in your life. You helped me. You’re helping me right now.”

The words stung more than Caleb expected. He still wasn’t used to affirmations—even with Nott constantly heaping praise on him and the others starting to throw in some of their own, it felt unwarranted. Undeserved. But he would be lying if he said he didn’t like it. He liked it quite a bit more than he was comfortable with. The attention was _good_ , and part of him craved more, but he kept that in check because wanting people’s approval had gotten him in trouble before.

And yet, when Mollymauk looked up at him with genuine gratitude in his eyes, Caleb couldn’t make himself look away.

“Like I said, it’s the least I can do.” He finally pulled his gaze away. “You sleep. I’ll keep the lights on.”

And he did, until Molly had fallen asleep, and then a little while longer after that. When he woke up the next morning, it was to Frumpkin sitting on his chest and purring loudly. When Caleb looked around, he saw Molly and Nott sitting on the same bed. Nott was putting some of Molly’s recovered trinkets back onto his horns. The new ones she’d stolen for him glinted in the sunlight.

Molly looked alert, present. Happy.

And despite himself, despite the cold feeling of anxiety that sank into his bones in moments like this, Caleb Widogast felt content.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "Bronte" by Gotye. I'm on tumblr at screechthemighty if you want to see a grab bag of fan art from ten different fandoms.


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